


Cracks

by AnnieVH



Series: Behind Closed Doors [33]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, Blood, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Rumbelle - Freeform, domestic abuse, injure, pre-rumbelle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 14:56:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4267587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieVH/pseuds/AnnieVH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Milah tries to hide her latest crime. Belle won’t let her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cracks

**Author's Note:**

> VERSE information: Behind Closed Door, Rumbelle and Swanfire, contains abusive relationship, implied non-con situations, child-abuse, violence, infidelity, very anti-Milah.
> 
> Anonymous prompted: Milah tries to do something physical to Gold in Public. Witnesses cannot brush it off. 
> 
> And truerumbelle prompted: “Frustrated she [Milah] slams his hand in the door at Granny’s or at the shop, or car. She seems to not even realize what she does most of the time or tries and justifies it with whatever Rumple did to cause her to lash out.”

Sunday was ruined the moment Belle recognized that the voice screaming outside of  _Granny’s_ was Rumple’s. It was such a loud, piercing sound that the sweet morning chatter she was so used to hearing in the diner died immediately, leaving nothing but silence in its place. After a short beat, someone said, “Was that Mr. Gold?” confirming that, no, it wasn’t in her mind and, yes, she should probably get off her chair and see what was going on.

But before Belle could move, Milah Gold barged in. Usually, her height and the heels she always wore gave the impression that she was staring down at everyone, something Belle suspected was the intention all along. But this particular morning, the look on her face was not just disdain, but anger. Belle had been on the receiving end of those eyes once, and she did not like it one bit.

She was sitting near the door, dividing her attention between a book and a cup of coffee, but Mrs. Gold didn’t seem to be in the mood to look around, let alone say hi, for which Belle was very grateful. Instead, she b-lined for the counter and announced, “I’m in a hurry, does anyone mind?”

In the sudden quietness of the diner, her voice sounded even more demanding.

Granny asked, “Is everything alright?”

Milah didn’t acknowledge the question and said, “I said I’m in a hurry. May I place my order?”

Granny’s eyebrows arched slightly at her rudeness. For much less she had thrown bigger men out with her bare hands. But she was very good at choosing buttons to push, so she narrowed her eyes and said, “Wait for your turn just like everyone else, honey.” And went back into the kitchen.

The result was Milah huffing, “For goodness’ sake!” and tapping her foot on the floor.

As the conversation returned to the diner, Belle sank on her chair, fearing that Milah might direct all that anger at her; they hadn’t talked since she caught her husband inside her apartment, and the last thing she needed was for the other woman to confront her on that topic now. Or she might decide to act extra friendly once again, which was even worse.

Ruby came in right after. She had been in a rather volatile mood ever since “the Graham incident”, but she had started Sunday morning with a rather good disposition, all things considered. Not anymore. The small smile she had managed to put on was gone and her eyes were full of worry. She immediately located Belle and gave the door a nod, very discreet, but very clear on its meaning:  _Get outside now_.

“Miss Lucas, I’ve been waiting long enough,” Milah said.

“Yes, Mrs. Gold, of course, I’m going,” she said, rushing to the counter and making a point at distracting her with flattery and subservience, so that Belle could sneak out unnoticed.

Outside, half a dozen necks were turning towards the sidewalk, some stretching to see what was going on. Despite the curiosity, no one seemed willing to leave their seats. The black Cadillac was parked in front of Granny’s, close enough to the entrance that people got a clear view of what was happening. In front of it, Dr. Whale was asking Mr. Gold questions in a soft voice, holding his hand. Rumple still looked pained.

“I don’t think it’s broken, but I’d rather not guess,” Dr. Whale said.

Rumple scoffed at him. “Don’t you make good money on guesses?”

The doctor laughed. “Fair point.”

Belle came closer quietly, not wanting to interrupt them. But when she looked at the hand Whale was holding, she couldn’t hold back a gasp. It was covered in blood and his slender fingers were shaking.

She didn’t waste time with greetings. “Oh my god, what happened?”

Rumple looked up to find her face and went from pale to mortified. In a swift movement, he tried to escape Whale’s grasp, but the doctor held him in place, resulting only in a painful groan.

“Whoa there,” Dr. Whale said. “Don’t move.”

“Yes, don’t move, what happened to your hand?” Belle asked, coming closer.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “It got caught in the door.”

Belle didn’t appreciate the use of passive voice. Not five minutes before, everyone in the dinner had heard Rumple scream his lungs out, and Belle didn’t take him for someone who easily overreacted. That door had slammed into his hand pretty hard, especially if it had drawn blood, and she could only guess who had pushed it in the first place.

“I think you need to go to the hospital,” Belle said.

Rumple snapped his tongue and tried to pull his hand free once again, saying, “It’s nothing.”

“Stop moving,” Dr. Whale insisted, when the effort only resulted in another groan. “And stop self-diagnosing. You’ll put me out of business.”

“You already said it’s not broken.”

“I said I don’t  _think_  it’s broken. Which is far from saying it’s nothing. And you might need stitches.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Rumple said. “It was a stupid accident.”

“Well, most people die from stupid accidents,” Whale argued.

Rumple rolled his eyes, and finally managed to pull his hand free. “Yes. This is how I die. By slamming my hand into a door. Thank you, Dr. Whale.”

“What Dr. Whale is trying to say,” Belle cut in, trying to sound reasonable, “is that it’s better to look at these things as soon as you can, before they turn into something more serious.”

“ _Thank you_ , Belle!” said the doctor, glad that someone was listening to him.

“It won’t take long, just-just go with him? Please?” she asked, eyes going from his watery eyes to his hands. “That could get infected, or even-”

“I’ve got the coffee. How’s your hand?”

Belle tried not at glare at Milah Gold, but she could feel anger mounting up inside of her because that woman sounded so cold she might as well be asking if her husband had filled the tank. So, she kept her eyes on Dr. Whale, who at least looked shocked at the dismissive tone.

“Dr. Whale said I might need to go to the hospital,” Rumple answered, and Belle hated how cautious he spoke, as if afraid that his discomfort might upset her.

“No need. I asked Ruby for a bag of ice,” she said.

Belle heard the shuffling of ice cubes, but didn’t look up. Between gritted teeth, she said, “Dr. Whale also said he might need stitches.”

Milah finally looked at her, as if noticing her presence for the first time. “Well, good morning, Miss French,” she said, without warmth. “I didn’t know you were doubling as a nurse now.”

Milah always knew what to say to make her want to take a step back and disappear. Belle couldn’t begin to imagine what it was like to live with a woman who preyed on the small details – such as the fact that Belle was not supposed to be there – to make you feel guilty and unwanted. Even if you were only trying to be helpful.

“I heard someone scream-”

“Yes, we all did, it was my husband,” Milah said, merciless, without bothering to keep her voice low. “The door slammed into his hand and now he needs some ice.”

“He’ll actually require some stitches, Mrs. Gold,” Dr. Whale said.

It was no surprise when Milah scoffed. “What, for that? He’s fine, Dr. Whale. He’s always doing things like that. If I were to drive him to the doctor every time he bumps into something-”

“Maybe you should,” Belle cut in.

Three pairs of eyes turned to face her, both Whale and Rumple’s with a little spark of fear in them, and Milah’s with renewed anger, but too shocked at her impertinence to give her a proper reply. Something hurtful and, worse of all, true. Probably along the lines of, “Last time I checked, I was his wife, Miss French, not you. Although, you spend so much time demanding his attention, one might begin to wonder.” And that was all the fuel that small towns needed to start the rumor mill.

Not that people weren’t whispering among themselves right now, watching the scene from the safety of their seats. Nobody cared to participate, but they paid close attention as to repeat every detail to friends and family later on.

Thankfully, Dr. Whale sensed the mutual hate between the two women and cleared his throat before the fight could escalate. As he spoke, Belle kept her eyes on Rumple’s bloody hand, and as far from his face as possible. If she saw guilt or shame there, it might make her snap and say things she could regret.

“It is my professional opinion, as Mr. Gold’s physician, that a bag of ice won’t do. If we go to the hospital now, you’ll be good to go in no more than an hour. I guarantee.”

Milah looked at him, then turned to her husband and said, “We’re late, Malcolm.”

The other patrons in front of Granny’s were murmuring now. Belle could swear someone was stifling laughter, eagerly awaiting their landlord’s next move as his wife yanked his leash. Gathering courage, she looked at Rumple, who had his eyes on Milah, looking like he didn’t want to upset her. But at the same time, his hand was starting to swell and becoming too painful to simply ignore.

“Uhn, Dr. Whale?” Belle asked, quickly, before Rumple could answer. “Can Mr. Gold even drive with his hand like that? In your medical opinion, that is.”

Whale looked like he was ready to smile, but was sensible enough to keep a straight face. “Actually, Miss French, I would recommend against it. In fact, if you try to drive like that, I might have to call the Sheriff.”

“For driving his own car?” Milah snapped. “This is ridiculous!”

“He is not fit to drive. It’s my, you know,” his eyes shifted to Belle, who nodded imperceptibly for him to go on, “my obligation as a physician. He’s a danger to others.”

Milah huffed and looked at her husband. “And you agree.”

An accusation.

Rumple swallowed, one hand clutching the other to his chest. “I… Milah, you heard the doctor.”

“It was not just the doctor that I heard,” she said, glaring at Belle again. This time, she didn’t lower her eyes. If caring for her husband so that he wouldn’t have to amputate his fingers due to an infection made her a terrible person, so be it.

“I’ll drive you,” Dr. Whale said, also adopting that tentative tone. Three people begging for her mercy. “This way, your wife can have coffee while-”

“I  _hate_  driving your car,” Milah announced, making the Doctor shut up. “I’ll have to go home and get the SUV. By the time we’re done, the traffic to Portland will be  _impossible_!”

Belle waited for someone other than her to start screaming “ _Who cares about Portland? Your husband needs to go to the hospital_!” but no one did.

Finally, Rumple sighed and asked, “Milah, what do you want me to do?”

Milah froze, caught in her own trap. Up until that moment, she had been trying to get  _him_  to walk away from the doctor on his own free will – or as free as it could be with his wife pulling the strings, making him feel guilty for having an injured hand. But now, Rumple was throwing the question back at her.  _What do you want me to do?_  She wanted him to stop whining and get in the car and drive her Portland, just like they had planned, before she screwed up everything by slamming the car door into his hand. But saying that out loud meant taking responsibility, for the accident as well as its consequences. If things went terribly wrong, she wouldn’t be able to claim that her husband had been stubborn, refusing to take care of himself. The blame would be on her.

“Fine,” she said, as cold as ever, dropping both coffees and the ice pack in the closest trash can. “If you’re too lame to drive, maybe you should rest.”

Belle would have agreed it was a good idea to have some bed rest, had she not spoken those words with utmost contempt.

Rumple tried to say, “Milah-”

But his wife was already opening the driver’s door and telling him, “I’ll be waiting at home.”

The door slammed and his whole body rattled at the sound. Whale didn’t move until the Cadillac was out of sight, saying, “Right, yes. Lets go look at your hand.”

“Yes,” Rumple said, allowing the doctor to place a hand on his shoulder and guide him towards his own car. But before he could move an inch, he said, “Thank you, Belle. You were very helpful.”

Belle murmured, “You’re welcome,” because it was the easy answer. Promising support and help in all matters a third time, especially in front of spectators, would not be appropriate. As well as offering to go with them. Even though she hated the idea of Rumple sitting on those plastic chairs, waiting alone for his turn, or trying not to look at his hand as Whale stitched him up.

She walked back inside with her eyes fixed on the door, pretending that she couldn’t see the people in front of the diner whispering about the Golds’ newest scandal, and wondering just how Belle featured in it. The new girl in town who only got a job because Mr. Gold vouched for her and who came to his rescue a little too fast.

Ruby was waiting for her behind the counter. For once, she didn’t lean in, desperate for a new piece of gossip. Instead, she asked, “How’s Mr. Gold?”

“Dr. Whale is taking him to the hospital to check on his hand. Mr. Gold insists it’s nothing, but it’s good to be sure.”

“Nothing my ass,” she murmured, pretending to wipe the counter so no one would call her away. “I heard the bones cracking. If he didn’t break anything I’ll be surprised.”

Belle shuddered.

“What about Mrs. Gold?” Ruby asked.

“Mrs. Gold threw a little tantrum because her precious Sunday is ruined and went back home,” Belle said, enraged. In a few words, she told her of the confrontation outside. When she was done, Ruby nodded and said, “Good thing that she’s gone.”

“What happened out there?”

“She slammed the door into his hand, that’s what happened,” Ruby told her, looking more upset than Belle had seen her in a while. “She gets out of the car, complaining about this and that, I don’t know, she wasn’t exactly shouting, and I wasn’t exactly listening.” When Belle raised her eyebrows, Ruby said, “One can’t live off gossip alone. Sometimes I  _do_  work. Out of the blue, the door slams and Mr. Gold screams.”

“But you  _saw_  her slam the door into this hand?” Belle asked.

“Yes! I was looking over my shoulder when it happened. She was leaning on the door, and he was saying whatever, you know, trying to calm her down because they’re in public. Next thing you know,  _wham_!” Ruby paused. “He stopped screaming pretty quick, though.”

“You’re upset,” Belle noted. Ruby wasn’t one to show concern for her fellow men openly.

“Yes, well, she wasn’t very sympathetic. At first, she looked scared, like, not guilty, just scared. Like she was worried she had done something stupid. Then she tried to brush it off, as if he was overreacting. Personally, I think he was  _under_ reacting. If it had been my hand, I’d be crying and making good use of the F word. But he just… kept it all in. And she kept saying they had to go get coffee because they were in a hurry, and when I offered to get him some ice, she just barked at me that her husband was fine and that my time would be better spent preparing her order. Not that she was even in the diner, let alone ordering anything. Thank god for Dr. Whale. He said he’d take a look at his hand, and Mrs. Gold just… left them and came into the diner.”

“As if nothing had happened.”

“Oh, she  _knew_  what she had done. You saw her. And it only got worst when you left. She was barking orders like I was her personal slave. It was clear she just wanted to get her coffee and get the hell out of here before someone decided to cause trouble. She almost threw that ice pack on my face when I offered it.”

“Yes, she wasn’t very happy when Dr. Whale said he might need stitches.”

“God, what kind of human being does that?”

Belle shrugged, slowly making sense of the other woman’s behavior. Ruby was right. Milah knew exactly what she had done wrong, and she knew there should be consequences for it. That was why she had seemed so on edge, and so desperate to take her husband away from that crowded place. More than that, so desperate to make him admit that the whole thing was nothing. That way, if anybody tried to do something-

“Nobody cared,” Belle whispered.

Ruby asked, “What?”

“Everybody was watching, but nobody really cared.”

“She’s his wife, Belle,” Ruby said, as if that was enough reason. “No one cares if they spar every once in a while.”

“They weren’t sparring. She was being cruel.”

Ruby nodded. “That’s what got to you, right?”

It was Belle’s turned to frown and ask, “What?”

“Valentine’s Day? That’s what got to you. The way she was acting, it was like today.”

“More or less.”

“You think she does that  _all_  the time?” Ruby asked, as if the thought of that alone was hard to grasp.

“Neal is worried. I promised to call if something seemed out of place. As did Graham.”

“Well, I don’t want to tell you guys how to do your job, but that sounds like the occasion to call Neal.”

Belle sighed. “Mr. Gold won’t appreciate it.”

Ruby looked at her as if she were crazy. “Doesn’t matter that Mr. Gold won’t appreciate it! If Neal’s worried, you should call him.”

“I know, I know, I know!” Belle said, sinking her face into her hands, helplessly. “God I hate this.”

When Ruby didn’t say a word, Belle emerged from behind her hands. She had a look on her face that Belle knew all to well.

“I know I won’t like what you have to say,” Belle said. “But either way, you should say it.”

Ruby bit down on her lip, debating with herself how she should phrase the next few words as to not offend her friend, but still be effective. She opted for simplicity: “You like him.”

“Ruby,” Belle sighed, “He’s my  _friend_ , he’s been helping me-”

“Yes, and small towns are  _terrible_  at discerning friendships from racy love affairs because friendships make for lousy gossip. After Gaston, you don’t need to add  _that_  to your list of imaginary sins.”

Belle shrugged. “I don’t care.”

“Do you care for what his wife might do? I once saw her kick him under the table for looking at me, and he wasn’t even aiming for under my skirt. You’re spending a lot of time with her husband, not to mention how adamant you were about helping him.”

“This is ridiculous,” she replied. “Isn’t he allowed to have friends now?”

“No.”

The bluntness of the answer made Belle go quiet.

“He  _should_  be allowed to have friends,” Ruby argued. “Just as he  _should_  be allowed to go to the hospital if his hand is broken. But guess what? Judging by everything you told me, his wife is a psycho who’ll very likely break his other hand if she thinks your relationship is inappropriate. Not to mention what she might try to do to  _you_.”

Anger started rising again, as every cell in Belle’s body started screaming “It’s not fair! It’s not fair!” like a petulant child. Yes, they  _should_  be allowed to be friends. And yes, he  _should_  be allowed to feel safe, without the fear of setting his ticking bomb of a wife off. Yet, at the same time, Ruby’s logic was far from off.

“What do you suggest I do?” Belle challenged her. “Bury my head in the sand, and pretend everything is fine?”

“Of course not!” Ruby answered, outraged Belle would even think that. “I suggest you call Neal, just like he asked you to. After that, you do exactly what were doing before: you keep an eye out. And now you got  _me_  in on it to help.”

“But?”

“ _But_  you could make things worse for him if you don’t take a step back.”

Belle stared at Ruby, crossing her arms across her chest. “Maybe things wouldn’t be as bad if people stopped looking at them for their gossip value and actually stood up to that woman.”

“Ah-ham, yes, everybody stands up and tells her to leave her husband alone, and then they go home at the end of the day, and she’s mad, and she takes it out on whom?”

Belle didn’t answer.

“Do you see how this works?” Ruby asked. “Tell Neal what you saw, and what you think of it, and that you’re worried, and pray that Mr. Gold actually listens to his own son. If you want, help him plan an intervention. Hell, I’ll make the banner and provide cupcakes! That man needs a divorce. But he doesn’t need Lady Belle in shiny armor- Belle!” she called out as her friend got of the stool and walked out of the diner without saying another word.

**Author's Note:**

> Picspam: http://annievh.tumblr.com/post/102166515522/behind-closed-doors-warnings-domestic-abuse


End file.
